Recovery
by spottedhorse
Summary: Anthony Strallan woke in the mud of France, injured and frightened. His journey home was a long one. All from his pov.


This is a bit long for a one shot but I really didn't want to break it up. I hope you enjoy, at least in the end. Please let me know what you think of it:-)

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He woke in a sweat, pain gripping him, searing along his arm and into his chest. The ground around him was wet and the haze of battle still hung in the air. Gathering his wits, he tried to move but was being held down by something. Mustering his strength, and using his left hand, he shoved the obstacle off. Rolling to his side and pushing up, it was then that he realized what it had been. The eyes of his batman stared up at him lifelessly, his skull blown open. Looking around him he saw several other bodies, all lifeless, their blood mingling together in pools around them. The ground was soaking it up, creating the mud under him. As he surveyed the destruction, the various bodies and their parts scattered around him, the memory of the attack came crashing back on him and he began to shriek.

Despite his injuries, it took two medics to hold him down and restrain him. After giving him something to calm him, he was loaded on an ambulance and driven to the closest field hospital. The sounds of the surrounding battles echoed in his ears for the three long days and torturous nights he spent there before being sent back to England. Through it all, only one thing gave him any peace. When he felt himself giving into the insanity of his fear and emotions, Anthony Strallan closed his eyes and tried to picture _her_.

He replayed every moment of their times together, the long car rides through the countryside, the concerts, their delightful walks, the dinners…all of it….every moment. And after he exhausted his memories, he created dreams with her in them. As he listened to the screaming of the shell shocked patients in the next ward, he mentally drew a picture of her face and studied carefully every detail.

Back in England, he was sent to a surgical hospital first, where they did what they could for his shoulder and arm. After a week there, he was transported to another center for his rehabilitation. Through it all, the surgery, the pain, the drugs, and the fear, he kept his sanity by continuing his mental study of that lovely young creature who had so thoroughly captured his heart. And he fell in love with her all over again.

Reminders of her were everywhere, in the soft brown wood of the chest that stood by his bedside that was just the color of her eyes and in the soft hues of early fall that captured just a bit of her hair color. Someone's smile could take him back to sunny days in her company…or a laugh from one of the nurses echoed the light tinkle of hers. The man in the next bed had a visit from his sister and her scent was like Edith's, although not quite the same for it wasn't Edith who wore it.

"We've all agreed that you've had a slight case of shell shock, along with your other injuries," his doctor informed him. "It isn't enough to make much of a note of it but I should be wary of too much stress, if I were you." Anthony looked at him, confounded. The doctor cleared his throat to further explain. "Stress is a trigger, you see. Too much of it and you'll be back in the battle. You've seen it in others, what it does. If you should have problems, let your doctor know. There are things that can be done."

Anthony's mind was screaming. "No, I…I…. haven't had the episodes…"

"No, you've kept it largely to yourself. But the nurses have told me about your nightmares. And I've seen the look from time to time…"

"Look? What look?" Anthony wanted to know what it was the doctor was seeing, what made him seem so vulnerable.

"I can't explain it well, but I've seen it too many times not to recognize it. It isn't always there in you, but I have seen it. In time, I believe the danger will be over for you, but when you first go back to your life, your home….well, the adjustment will be lengthy and stressful. Do yourself a favor and don't add to it."

Anthony absorbed what the man said. "Yes, quite right. Well, it shouldn't be a problem. There won't be much to find stressful."

"Yes, I know you think so. But often family and friends can unknowingly…"

"No family, just a few friends," Anthony said swiftly. "I lead a rather quite life in the country," he assured the doctor desolately.

"Well in any case, it'll be sometime before we release you home. You've a bit more healing to do here," the doctor said before walking away.

That night Anthony had a horrendous nightmare. He was back at the road where his unit had been attacked and he was shot. He could smell the smoke and feel the pain as bullets ripped through his shoulder and arm. But the worst part came when he pushed his batman off and looked into the face of his lovely Edith. Anthony woke screaming and thrashing, fighting with the night nurse assigned to his ward. "Major Strallan," she called to him as she tried to tame his swinging arm. Shaking him, she brought him out of his terror.

In the dim light of the ward, she could see the terror in his bright blue eyes as they stared at her, frightened. "You were having a dream, Major," she assured him. "It is alright. You are safe now."

Anthony sat upright, staring at her as he tried to gather himself. But as soon as he began to collect his thoughts, he began to shake uncontrollably. "Oh god….Edith," he cried as the image of her lifeless face flashed before him. "My sweet, sweet Edith…"

"She's alright, Major," the nurse tried to tell him. "She is safe." Her words were repeated until slowly he began to absorb them.

Looking at her expectantly, he blinked. "Edith is safe?" he asked in a childlike whimper.

"Yes…yes, she is. You were having a horrible dream."

Anthony glanced around at his surroundings. "Yes…a dream….of course."

Watching him began to relax, the nurse smiled. "So this Edith….she is your wife?" She immediately regretted the question as despair fell over his demeanor.

Anthony looked away. "No…no, she isn't. I wanted her to be but…"

"Is she pretty? How do you know her?" She thought if he were to talk about this Edith, perhaps it might help in some way.

A weak smile worked at his mouth as his eyes took on a distant expression. "She is very pretty…has lovely eyes. And so intelligent" then straightening up he looked at her. "I'm sorry, what is your name?"

"Emma Cook," she replied warmly.

"It is kind of you to take an interest in me…to help me tonight."

"Well, it was either sit and chat until you relaxed a bit or have the whole ward awake on my hands all night," she said lightly. "But now I find you have a bit of a mystery. I love a good mystery," she teased a little.

Anthony sighed. "Not a mystery really... Edith is the second daughter of a neighbor. I'm really much too old for her but for awhile, it didn't seem to matter."

"She said you are too old?"

"What? No, not exactly….her sister, well… something she said led me to believe. Anyway, I came to my senses."

"Did you talk to Edith about this or did you take the sister's word?"

Anthony looked at Emma, startled. "I…no; Edith tried but I …I didn't give her a chance. And then the war came and…well, here I am."

"Have you heard from her…how she is doing?"

"No. I've had no word of her since…well, since the war began."

Emma studied his face closely, noting the sadness in his expression and the slump in his shoulders. The man looked miserable. "You love her very much, don't you?"

Anthony smiled awkwardly. "More than I ever thought possible. I…well, I'm widowed you see…and I never thought…" His smile settled into a bittersweet one as his eyes took on that far away that Emma was beginning to think of as his "Edith look". "My wife and I got along quite well; we were well suited to one another. But as fond of her as I was, she didn't…she was comfortable for me but…"

Emma was amused by his struggle. "She didn't set off sparks," she offered lightly.

Anthony paused from his word search and looked at her, shocked. "No, no she didn't… not like Edith. The days were always brighter…sweeter when Edith was around. She made me feel so much younger…look forward to life again."

"And you gave up on her without talking to her? Pardon me, Major, but I think you were rather foolish."

"Yes, perhaps so. I…well, women tend to baffle me, you see."

Emma chuckled softly. "Men are always saying that. But it never seems to occur to you men that we find you equally baffling." She paused for a moment to consider an idea. "Would you like to write to her?"

"No," he exclaimed quickly, reaching for his injured arm. "Not now…not with… no."

As if reading his thoughts, Emma put her hand on his arm. "You're lucky to be alive. Why not concentrate on that rather than what you've lost with your injury."

"Yes, of course. And I will. But it would be unfair to tie her down with me now, a crippled old man."

"I know that is how you feel, Major. But I assure you that when we women look at you that is not what we see." Giving his arm a gentle squeeze, she turned and walked away, letting Anthony ponder her departing words.

The days passed slowly for him, one blending into another. Slowly the nightmares subsided until he didn't fear the night quite so much. And slowly the seasons passed into summer. "I think it is time we released you," his doctor declared. "Is there someone at home that can help you?"

Anthony's stomach flipped, both at the prospect of getting out of the hospital finally and the idea of going home to …no one. "I have my staff at Lochsley," he offered.

"Oh, well… I suppose that would do. You have a man, I suppose?"

"Yes, of course." Slowly the excitement of leaving was fading.

"Perhaps there is family you could stay with until you feel more independent. Sort of gain back your independence surrounded by people who care about you?" the doctor suggested.

Anthony considered the question. "I suppose I could stay in London with my sister for a bit. But just a few weeks. Her husband is older, you see…. And two invalids will be far too much for any length of time."

"Well, you aren't so much an invalid anymore, now are you? With the exception of dressing, you should be capable of doing on your own quite well once you get back in the flow, I should think." With that, the doctor closed his file and shuffled away.

That night, Anthony couldn't seem to sleep. He tossed in his bed until once again, Emma showed up. "You're having a restless night tonight?"

Anthony scooted to a sitting position. "Yes…I'm worried."

"Yes, I saw on your chart that you are being released at the end of the week. After all this time in the hospital I should think it is a bit daunting."

Nodding in agreement, Anthony looked at her. "I want to thank you…for these late night chats. I am quite grateful."

Emma smiled at him. "You know Major Sir Anthony Strallan, if your heart weren't already so deeply invested in another, I should be quite tempted to turn these chats into something more."

Thankful for the shadowy conditions of the ward, Anthony felt himself blushing profusely. "I …well…you are too kind…to suggest that… well….thank you," he managed, too flustered at her suggestion to speak coherently.

"So when you do get back home…look her up and have that conversation with her. Give her a chance and if she isn't interested, then at least you know. She'll haunt you if you don't."

"Perhaps you are right," he replied, totally not convinced.

He spent two and a half weeks in London with his sister and was anxious to leave. She had everyone in the household being overly attentive and he felt stifled, even more of an invalid than when he was in the hospital. So he announced at dinner that it was time for him to return to his life at Lochsley and by late the next morning, he was on a train back to York.

The drive from the station reminded him of all the wonderful drives he had shared with Edith and that night, his dreams of her began again. Once he'd settled back into his life, he began making the rounds with friends, carefully avoiding the one person he wanted to see most. But he did manage to catch up on the news of the county and was relieved to hear his dear Edith was well. Wickedly, he was delighted to hear she remained unattached and fought daily with a nefarious inner voice that chided him to do something about it.

When the invitations came from Lord Grantham for first dinner and then a hunt, he deliberately begged off knowing that once he laid eyes on her, he would not be able to resist the pull of Edith. But his dreams became vivid ones again, joyous happy moments of his imaginings. So when the invitation came from the Dowager Countess to tea, temptation overcame his good senses and he accepted. Perhaps he could have more intimate news of his sweet love. What could be the harm of visiting the grandmother, he reasoned.

The shock of Edith standing in her grandmother's parlor froze him momentarily. "God, she is more beautiful than I remembered," he thought as he looked into her warm brown eyes. "And she seems so happy to see me," he reflected.

The look on her face when he awkwardly explained his arm…it tore at him. But she tried to make the best of it, he could see. Turning the conversation to what he thought was a safer topic, he felt her back away, emotionally as well as physically. And it felt as if his heart were ripping from his chest. But as they chatted over tea, his eyes kept finding their way back to her and he noted that she was having the same difficulty. Perverse hope began to grow in him once again.

On the ride home, reason began to take hold. He was far too old for her and with his arm as it was…no, it would not be fair to her. She was simply too beautiful and too intelligent to throw away her life on him. No, he would not be a part of her wasting her life. He would be firm but gentle with her if the subject came up. And he would be careful not to spend too much time in her company. One thing Sir Anthony Strallan did understand about the whole matter was that she was far too tempting for him to trust himself much with her. But even as he thought these things, need rushed through him in waves and he was overcome with the overwhelming desire to feel her in his arms.

Anthony remained firm in his stance when she visited. He could see her disappointment and marveled at her own resolve when she declared those breathtaking words, "…if you think I am going to give up on someone who calls me lovely…" He tried to remain firm but he could feel his walls crumbling. Thankfully she left before he did anything ridiculous.

But the dreams persisted, egging him into capitulation. And she wouldn't leave it alone, showing up on the flimsiest of excuses and brightening his days beyond understanding. And the dreams became more physical until he was waking in the mornings in a deplorable state, needing relief immediately. Never in his life had he felt such a drive of this nature and it bewildered him that it should come at this time.

Lord Grantham had been quite right to warn him away, Anthony mused on his ride home from the dinner he'd attended at Downton. "Quite right," he said to himself in the back of the car. He understood her father's reservations; he held them himself, didn't he? Her innocent kiss to his cheek a few nights before had delighted him even in the midst of his trepidation. Why couldn't he resist her charm, he admonished. Because she made him feel alive again, he reminded himself. So once again he resolved to stay away, even considering a trip abroad to give Edith a chance to find someone new. But his heart screamed at that thought, of the idea of her on another man's arm.

His inner debate crowded him the next few days. He so longed for just the sight of her, to see just a wisp of her smile, to look into her warm lovely eyes, and to feel her gentle touch on his arm. He ached for it…for her. But his reasonable side would argue about his age and his arm and eventually reason won out. But the nights…oh how awful the nights were. His dreams of her morphed into nightmares, vivid mixtures of sights and sounds that were all too real, and contained far too many visions of her covered in blood, of vacant dead eyes…her eyes. As he awoke from one of the worst, he realized how very much he loved her, how much he needed her and how empty his life was without her.

He trembled as he opened the note. Apparently Robert had a change of heart. Edith's doing, no doubt. And remembering the nightmare from the previous night and his obvious conclusions, he decided to attend the dinner. It was just to see her, he chided. Just to see that she was alright. But his reasonable, less selfish side wouldn't stop disputing his decision.

Inwardly, he trembled through the evening. He had so many emotions raging within. When he first walked into the room and saw her, his heart almost stopped beating, it was so full. She looked even more beautiful to his Edith starved eyes. She looked at him shyly and he paused. What right did he have to expect her attention on this night? Glancing around, he looked for someone nearby with which to chat, but she was beside him before he could decide on a course of action. And beside him she remained most of the evening.

Eventually they found themselves in a room alone together. It had been a different sort of evening…some mix up over the dinner changing all the plans he gathered. He had been far too preoccupied with Edith to pay any real attention. His resolve had crumbled into shattered little pieces as the night progressed until he found himself uttering those words he had sworn to keep to himself, ones of love and marriage. And by the end of the night, he was arranging to come by in the morning to speak with the family about marrying the middle daughter of the house.

His dreams that night were the happiest he could ever remember.

The family was concerned but seemed resigned to the idea of a crippled old man marrying one of their prizes. Cora was the most enthused but even she was reserved with it. Robert wasn't sold on it completely but wanted his daughter happy. The Dowager wasn't happy at all. And Edith….his dear Edith, was exultant. Anthony was happy too, even though the voices within kept trying to take it away. He went through his days feeling that he was being dishonest…dishonorable in some way. And when he looked at Edith, sometimes he felt like a dirty old man. But in his more selfish moments he was as full of joy as she. So the days until their wedding passed quickly and happily. But his nights…his nights were filled with terror as his more reasonable side gained ground. The dreams became more vivid as well as more focused, until he awoke the night before his wedding screaming in terror.

As he approached the church, Anthony had almost found a modicum of peace, having recovered from last night's terror. Inside, he was trembling awfully but he hoped that he looked calm enough outwardly. Sitting in the front, waiting for his lovely sweet bride, he was collecting himself for the big moment, reassuring himself that this was indeed the right thing to do. He would make her happy; he was determined to do so. The sisters walked in happily, both looking very pretty and happy and he felt a bit calmer. And then he heard them, the whisperings between the Dowager and the priest. Oh why did they have to bring up Maud? The speculation was uncalled for, he thought. What he and Maud shared was so very different. Another thought struck him suddenly. He and Maud…there had been the physical side of things but it had been less than spectacular… and he had been younger then, more capable. And Edith…she was so quietly passionate. Would he be able to meet her expectations…how could he? The tiny inner voices of reason began to take hold again, flooding his mind with visions of his failings, of his almost certain failure in that area.

Finally she stood next to him. He chanced a glance down and what he saw took his breath away. She was so beautiful, so spectacularly beautiful. She smiled up at him nervously, "Good afternoon," she said with a demure smile.

It was too much. He didn't deserve this…this lovely creature. "Good afternoon, my sweet," he returned with a nervous smile. He felt he was shaking so hard by now that he would crumble from it. And crumble he did. He vaguely remembered later Travis beginning the ceremony. He had an impression of Robert arguing and of the Dowager saying he was being sensible. But his clearest, most vivid memory was of Edith's face. She looked at him so stricken, so hurt, and yet with such love. No, he didn't deserve that, not at all. He said…something, he would never be able to remember what. Something about her being happy and not tied to him, he knew. And then he fled.

Carl was waiting beside the car but Anthony waved him off. He fled as fast as he could down the road and across fields. But as hard as he tried, as fast as he ran, he couldn't escape the crushing pain in his chest or the tears that were flowing freely from his eyes. He was trying to do what was right for her, for his dearest darling, but in doing so he had broken both their hearts. As he finally began to slow down, he looked around frantically, hoping the earth would open and swallow him whole.

The nightmares became worse. More and more, Anthony feared the night, feared the dreams that would come. He tried staying awake as long as he could and was up with the dawn, never getting more than two or three hours sleep a night. Consequently, he began to look haggard and tired and his health began to suffer. About a month after the wedding that didn't happen, Dr. Clarkson saw him in the village and stopped him to talk. "Why don't you come by my office, Sir Anthony? You look ill."

"No, thank you. I'm fine, just a little tired," Anthony replied in that awkward fashion of his.

"You're not sleeping?" Clarkson's question sounded more like a statement of fact. Gently he took the other man's elbow and began to steer him toward the hospital.

Anthony conceded, "No, not much. I…. the nightmares are back and so much worse, you see."

Once they were in Clarkson's office, Anthony all but collapsed into a chair. "I… can't sleep more than a few hours. When I close my eyes, it all comes back…the war, you know. Only instead of fallen men around me, it is Edith I see."

"Lady Edith Crawley?"

"Yes…of course."

"This is since you…"

"It is worse since then but it started before. My doctor warned me at the Army hospital that this might happen…that too much stress might cause problems."

"You suffered shell shock?" Clarkson asked carefully. "Why wasn't I told of this?"

"He said it wasn't severe enough to make a formal note of. But that stress could cause problems so I should avoid it. I didn't realize that marrying would …" Anthony trailed off, disconsolate.

Clarkson frowned. "As I recall, you had a rough time after Lady Strallan died."

"Yes, I did. We'd known each other since we were children. She was my friend before we married."

"Your marriage was a happy one?"

Anthony looked at the doctor oddly. "What are you implying?" It was too much like the conversation in the church that day.

"Nothing, except that perhaps remarrying was stressful because of the relationship with your wife. Perhaps you felt you were betraying her in some way?"

Anthony relaxed a little. "No, I didn't feel that. I am too old for Edith; it was time I came to my senses. I do regret that it took me up to the very moment to do so but I hope that with her freedom she can find happiness. I'm afraid I would have held her back."

"Well, if you'd like I can give you something to help you sleep better," Clarkson offered, deciding that pursuing this conversation would be pointless.

Thinking that the doctor was in agreement with him about Edith, Anthony felt a little better. "Yes, I would be grateful." He watched as Clarkson took a bottle from the cabinet and wrote out instructions on a paper. He handed them to Anthony.

Taking them, Anthony paused. "There is one other thing you could do for me, Doctor." Puzzled, Clarkson waited. "When I was at the last hospital, there was a nurse. Her name was Emma Cook. Do you suppose you could inquire about her services for me?"

"Services?" the doctor snapped. "You don't need a nurse…unless there is something you are not telling me."

"But I will… eventually. And Emma was quite good at calming my nerves, so I thought…."

Putting his hand on Anthony's shoulder, Clarkson smiled. "My dear fellow, the only thing that is going to calm your nerves is to get over this idea that you are all wrong for Lady Edith and marry the girl. I will confide to you that I have seen her several times since you walked away and while she is coping, she is not happy. I'm not clear about what you thought you might accomplish by walking away, but unless it was to make the poor girl unhappy, you have failed miserably."

Stunned, Anthony left without a word.

Clarkson's sleep elixir did help. He didn't sleep all through the night but five hours was better than three and he passed those hours fully asleep and not in the throes of nightmares. So it was with a clear, rested mind that he decided the next day that he should go away for awhile. He had Davies pack his bags and the next day he was on the train to London.

He spent some time looking for Nurse Emma Cook but that had ended in disaster. She had been happy to see him and delighted when he asked her to dine with him at a small café near the hospital. They'd passed the time easily, catching up but with Anthony leaving his heartbreak out of the discussion.

The next day they walked in a nearby park. "So what of your Lady Edith?" Emma asked.

"We talked. I tried to explain my situation to her and she was quite lovely through it all. We were to be married but her family really didn't approve…me being so much older and well….my arm, you see. And when it came down to it, I just couldn't tie her to me; she's so bright and young…quite charming and I would be such a dull drag on all of that."

Emma frowned at him. "You are not boring, Sir Anthony. And perhaps she wanted to be tied to you."

"She thought she did," he conceded. "But no, it was time for me to come to my senses and so I did."

Emma studied his face for a moment. "And you're all the more miserable for it, I'd wager. Why not just marry the girl and put the both of you out of misery?"

Anthony shrugged in a defeated manner. "Even if I had a change of mind, she probably would prefer to never see me again and I can't blame her. And her family would most likely have me shot."

"But…"

"Please," he said with a roll of his head, "I didn't look you up to discuss my failure. I had hoped to hire you away."

"Hire me away?" Emma asked in confusion and dismay.

"Yes, I'll need a nurse eventually and in the meantime, well….I'm having difficulty sleeping and you were so kind and your chats comforted me so well, I thought perhaps…"

"You do not need a nurse. You need a wife, preferably one named Edith. Perhaps one day you might be in need of nursing but that is many years away, Sir Anthony, unless you continue along this path. It is almost as if you are willing yourself into doddering old age. No, I won't leave my job here for your foolish notion."

Anthony was startled by her frankness that was almost hostile. Considering what she said, he came to the only conclusion that made sense to him. "You said I need a wife…then perhaps you would consider marrying me? I know I'm not a romantic catch but I can promise you a comfortable life and all that would be expected in return is that you help me when needed."

Emma's jaw gaped open. "Did you not hear a word I said? You need to marry that girl, Sir Anthony. You won't be happy until you do."

"So you are turning down my offer?" Anthony asked, befuddled.

"Yes, of course I am, you silly fool. You are so besotted with your Lady Edith any woman would have to be daft to marry you."

Sadly Anthony accepted her answer and walked her back to her flat. "I'm terribly sorry if I have offended you," he said as they parted.

"Nonsense. I think you give yourself too little credit. You _are_ a romantic catch and I would adore being your wife if I thought for one minute you could love me as you do your Edith."

The incident left Anthony in despair.

He read Edith's articles in the paper and had glowed with pride over each one. It seemed she was finding a place for herself in life, independent of her station as Lady Edith. He knew Robert would never have approved of some of her stances and Anthony cheered her from afar for speaking out. It was a new day, he mused, as he lingered over one of her stories. And Edith would be an intelligent voice for women. Her articles rattled some of his long held notions but that was beside the point. His Edith had found herself.

The cool briskness of autumn had settled over London when he decided to return to the country. He didn't want to saddle his sister with his depression over the holidays and quite frankly, didn't want to be around for all the parties and happy people.

Without the stress of being so close to her but not seeing her and being away from the daily reminders, Anthony's nightmares settled back into dreams. He still awoke some mornings full of need but the terror had subsided. All in all, his life was settling into a boring, but manageable rhythm. So back to the county he went, ready to spend brisk afternoons walking about the estate and dull evenings with a good book.

That notion was shattered, however, when he stepped off the train in Ripon because as he turned to look for Carl, his eyes settled on Edith. Everything came rushing back, all the emotions of the last few months that he thought he had so firmly locked away. As he stood, frozen in his spot, she turned and looked straight at him. Her eyes widened and he saw her struggle. Then a reluctant smile broke into her features and she blinked, fighting back tears. His heart broke into pieces once again as he stood there watching her and he wanted to go comfort her. But he knew that as the cause of her pain, he wouldn't be any comfort at all.

People pushed past him and if it weren't for his height, he would have lost her face in the crowd. And then a miracle happened and she began to walk toward him. His emotions jumbled together, making him shake.

"Anthony, what a pleasant surprise," she said sweetly.

He couldn't speak; his mind would not form words nor would his mouth move to speak them. Instead he just stared down into her warm eyes and tried to breathe. He felt her hand on his arm and looked down at it before glancing back up at her, confused. "You're trembling," she said worriedly.

Swallowing to try to speak, he opened his mouth but still nothing. Finally, he nodded sheepishly.

She looked around and spotted an empty bench just inside the depot. "Here, let's go sit down a moment."

His mind was a swirl. Why would she want to sit with him? Why hadn't she slapped him…or ignored him…or anything but this? She was being kind, of course. Yes, that was it….just Edith being kind because that's who she is….of course….

The bench was small and they sat close. He could feel her next to him and even through their layers of coats, it was delightful. Slowly he looked up at her and found her staring back at him. He felt so utterly miserable in that moment.

"Anthony…my darling," she whispered.

How could she call him that, he screamed at himself inwardly. How could stand the sight of him? But still he sat, mesmerized. She looked as lovely as ever, although there was a sadness in her eyes. He put that there, he reminded himself. And finally, looking into her sweet, sweet face, he found a voice. "Edith…how are you?"

A change came over her suddenly. She glanced away and then with the nod of her head, her demeanor became decisive. "Right now, in this moment, I am happier than I have been since the moment you walked away from me. I thought I might never see you again."

"Yes, about that… I am sorry, you know. I should have spoken up earlier…"

"Yes, you should have. I could have had a chance to respond to all that nonsense. But instead you ripped my world apart and then walked away."

Feeling every bit the louse that he was, Anthony nodded. "Yes, quite right. It was very wrong of me to …"

She cut him off resolutely. "Yes and now that we have that cleared away, there is only one way you can ever earn my forgiveness."

Anthony was stunned. "You… you're willing to forgive…"

"Only on one condition." She said bluntly.

Anthony frowned, thoroughly surprised and bewildered. "Wha….what must that be?" he asked meekly. He feared her answer.

"I am going to London, to meet with a publisher. You are going with me and we will be married as soon as we can find a magistrate. We aren't going to speak to my family about it nor will we wait. I am not giving that overly active sense of honor of yours a chance to kick in, Anthony Strallan. Either you get on that train with me or we go our separate miserable ways and I shall never forgive you."

He was dreaming; he must be. This was beyond anything he'd thought possible. "Excuse me, did you say…"

"If you don't get on that train with me Anthony, and marry me before the day is over, then I will never forgive you. It is quite simple and you see, you really have no chance in the matter."

Anthony looked at her in a whole new way. "Have you always been like this?" he asked.

"Like what?" She answered with another question.

"Like…like this…so strong…and forthright…and….well, demanding." He flustered.

A most beautiful smile bloomed on her face. "Perhaps, a little. But it is you who has largely created this side of me, so it is only fair that you should suffer the brunt of it. And so, you will marry me and live out the rest of your days tied to a wretchedly, bossy woman."

All the voices of the last few months telling him to marry the girl came rushing back and for the first time since awakening in the bloody mud in France, Anthony Strallan felt sure of something, of himself. Putting his arm around her, he smiled. "We should get moving then; we have a train to catch."


End file.
